


Pack Formation

by Blunette (Hoshikuzu_san)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, idk why this isn't my most popular piece, this is one of my fave fics that I've typed yet, this is some good quality shitty fanfiction dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:09:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshikuzu_san/pseuds/Blunette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Draco makes it his duty to protect Potter, and drags the rest of his friends into it. Of course, he's only doing it for the sake of winning the game, nothing personal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pack Formation

Draco stepped silently, spells aiding his boots against the snapping of twigs and kicking of rocks. It wouldn't do to make a sound at a time like this. This was war.

Rather, the new physical education professor decided to test their skills by beginning a ‘game’. Said game was played by each team flinging paint at the next. Once you were decently covered by paint of the opposing team’s color, you were ‘out’. The team with the most remaining members by the end of class would win. However, the game could be won early if a team’s captain was drenched. 

This meant the captains of each team were the students who actually participated in the ridiculous class, and the ones the professor trusted to last a decent amount of time before getting painted.

Potter was a team captain, of fucking course.

Draco was put on his team,  _ of fucking course _ .

But, and bless small miracles, Blaise, Pansy, Greg, and Vince were also on Green Team.

Though the blond rarely participated in their Phys Ed class, mostly because it was based on some rubbish muggle class and involved far too much sweating with far too little flying, that didn't mean he couldn't participate if push came to shove. He aced all the agility tests, as did the rest of the group (save for Blaise, the lazy git), but spent all the other classes merely talking with them instead of ‘playing’. It was rather relaxing, actually.

But now there was  _ this  _ bloody game, and Draco would be damned if Green Team lost. 

That's how the group found themselves silently sneaking through the arena, which had been glamoured to resemble a forest, with their wands drawn and breaths bated.

Some idiot stumbled into a nearby clearing, and all hell broke loose.

Hot pink and cyan blue clashed, splashing everywhere and turning magenta where they mixed. Then there was canary yellow flying through the air, and students screaming, and several pops indicating the ones who'd gotten out.

Draco stiffened when a familiar figure tore through the line of trees where his group was waiting.

Potter clutched at his arm, which was dripping with a bright pink slash. He wasn't drenched, so he hadn't gotten out, but Draco blanched when he realized  _ fuck, Potter’s team captain. _

“Potter,” Pansy began, voice incredulous. “Why the bloody hell aren't you  _ hiding _ ?”

“And miss out on all this?” Potter asked, slightly manic grin on his face.

“Putting all our arses on the line, Potter?” Blaise drawled.

“I only got splashed a little-” 

“Shite!” Greg yelled, and everyone froze when they spotted Yellow Team approaching at a rapid speed.

“Fuck,” Potter cursed.

“Shite!” Greg repeated, beginning to panic.

“Sod this,” Blaise sighed, wand drooping resignedly.

“Don't you dare-” Pansy hissed.

“Shite!” Greg said again, and Vince was also beginning to shake.

“All of you, shut up,” Draco snapped.

“Excuse-” Pansy began.

“Pack formation,” Draco ordered, “protect Potter at all costs. If he goes down,” he met their eyes steadily, “we all go down.”

“And we can't have that,” Blaise said sarcastically, but the four Slytherin obediently surrounded Potter, Draco at the front.

“Pack formation?” Potter repeated, disbelief coloring his voice. “Protect  _ me _ ?” 

Draco steadied his stance before slanting the speccy eyed git a cool glance over his shoulder. “Don't let us down, Potter.”

“How long did he practice that one in the mirror?” Blaise muttered, and Pansy, bless her soul, elbowed him.

“He’s in the zone, Zabini, and if you don't start pulling your weight, I'll  _ let  _ you get drenched.”

“And that would be so bad?” Blaise asked.

“Blaise,” Draco said calmly, still facing forward, watching silently as Yellow Team drew within striking range. “Two words.”

“What?” he grumbled.

“Peach jam.”

Blaise stiffened. “You  _ bastard _ , you wouldn't  _ dare _ .”

“That depends entirely on your devotion to the team,” Draco said innocently.

Blaise quickly straightened his posture, wand at the ready.

“And that's why Draco’s the leader,” Vince whispered to Blaise, who shot him a glare.

“Peach jam?” Potter asked.

“Speak those words in my presence again, Potter, and there will be consequences,” Blaise promised darkly, leading for Potter to raise his eyebrows.

Pansy giggled, and then Yellow Team was upon them.

“GREEN TEAM!” Weasley hollered across the clearing. “WE OFFER YOU ONE CHANCE AT PEACEFUL SURRENDER!”

Draco snorted.

“Tell him to piss off,” Pansy said.

“Tell him to suck my prick,” Blaise suggested.

“Tell him no?” Greg offered politely.

“PEACH JAM!” Draco yelled back to Yellow Team, and Blaise swore louder than the battle cry of Weasley’s followers when they launched their hideous paint.

“Cover me,” Draco said, and Potter unblinkingly created a shield as Draco conjured copious amounts of green paint.

“What's the plan?” Pansy grunted, deflecting the yellow substance as she flung some green of her own.

“Dragon of Doom, Dragon of Doom,” Vince chanted.

“What?” Potter asked.

“Do it,” Greg begged.

“Do the Doom,” Blaise agreed, grin vicious, “show these bastards some Slytherin charm.”

“Dragon of Doom it is!” Draco grinned, and the large wave of green paint he'd formed began to shift and change shape as the other Slytherin began adding their own paint.

“Let's blow this bitch,” Pansy said gravely.

“What?” Potter repeated, leaning forward in interest.

His breath brushed Draco’s neck, and the blond shivered.

“We're going to win!” Vince said, voice faint.

“SINK YOUR TEETH IN THEIR NECK!” Draco roared.

“DRAW BLOOD!” the other Slytherin chorused, and Potter choked.

“SINK YOUR TEETH IN THEIR NECK!” he screamed again.

“DRAW BLOOD!”

“Incoming!” Weasley’s warning could be heard as Yellow Team finally noticed the large mass of green looming over the opposite team. “Raise your defenses!” Weasley commanded. “Don't let them get to us!”

Draco laughed darkly, and it was more of a cackle, really, as he raised his arms. With them, raised the green paint, which swirled, twisted, and separated into different streams and shapes.

It formed a glossy dragon, which released a deepthroated growl before lurching forward.

“BATTLE STANCES!” Weasley screamed, but when the dragon hit, even Green Team was blown back by the paint explosion. Draco stumbled back into Potter, who instinctively grabbed his hips to steady him, and then they were being showered on.

There was silence in the field before the sound of several pops met their ears, and Greg dared to ask, “Did we win?”

Draco tilted his head back, just enough to meet Potter’s stare, before he stepped out of the other boy’s touch and approached the opposite side of the clearing, hesitantly followed by the rest of his pack, and Potter.

He knelt down and dipped his fingers in the mixed paint marring the grass. An odd blend of pink, blue, yellow, and green.

Draco smeared the paint across his cheeks, stood, and threw a fist in the air.

“THE BLOOD OF OUR ENEMIES!” he rallied, and the others roared in response, pumping their fists in the air.

“GREEN TEAM DOMINATES!” Pansy screamed, and they roared again.

The glamoured arena began to dissipate, and then the team found themselves returned to the unglamoured Hogwarts yard, staring back at several gobsmacked students and a highly impressed professor.

“Mate,” Weasley said, eyes wide. “How could you?”

Potter shrugged, grinning. “All’s fair in love and war, as they say.”

“Mate!” Weasley repeated.

“Like you weren't trying to do the same to us, Weasley.” Pansy rolled her eyes.

“He’s just sore he lost,” Vince said.

“I'd be grateful to be out of that hideous yellow uniform,” Draco murmured.

“He’s just upset Potter synchronized so well with us,” Greg said.

“Potter was a very good damsel in distress, yes,” Blaise agreed.

“He covered my front,” Draco pointed out.

“And back.” Pansy leered, and Blaise choked.

“How did I miss that!” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I wasn't aware you were interested in watching.”

Blaise winked. “Hook me up next time.”

“What?” Weasley asked.

Potter, eyebrows raised to his hairline, merely shook his head. “I don't know,” he admitted.

“Hermione’s still gonna be surprised when she hears about this.” Ron elbowed Harry roughly. “You? Teaming up with Malfoy and his group?”

“Pack,” Harry supplied. “They're like a pack. Malfoy’s the leader.”

Ron frowned. “I thought you were team captain?”

Harry stared at the blond who, in deep conversation with his ‘pack’, glanced at him briefly, as if sensing he was being looked at.

Harry glanced back to Ron. “I  _ was _ team captain, but... Malfoy was still the leader.”

“Yeah,” Ron patted his shoulder consolingly, “Malfoy’s always been a power-whore. Sorry he took control over you, mate.”

Harry, glancing at Draco again, murmured, “I'm not.”

“What?”

Harry blinked. “It was nice. Malfoy really brought us together, like a team. He would be a very good team captain, actually.”

Ron frowned. “But you're always team captain, Harry.”

“Even I like not being in control, sometimes.”

Ron squinted at him. “Why are you saying it like that? It sounds all sexual.”

Harry barked out a laugh, missing the way Draco looked at him again.

* * *

Draco raised an eyebrow at the sneering Ravenclaw standing before the Slytherin table.

“You may have won today in the field,” the boy snarled, “but watch your back. The game doesn't end until your captain falls.”

Draco turned to Pansy, who looked just as confused.

“The field?” she asked. “You mean, from Phys Ed class?”

“You're still on about that?” Blaise drawled. “We won, end of story.”

“We won't accept that!” the Ravenclaw crowed. “You Slytherin filth don't deserve anything!”

“I see you’ve set aside some free time to humiliate yourself in public,” Draco replied calmly, “but we don’t have nearly as much to waste as you do, so if you wouldn't mind.” He waved his hand as if to shoo the other boy.

“What do you mean, until our captain ‘falls’?” Greg inquired.

“He means drenched by paint,” Vince assumed, “from the game.”

Draco narrowed his eyes, picking up on Greg’s point. “No, he said  _ falls _ instead of drenched, specifically.”

The boy smirked dangerously. “It would be a shame if your captain was too ill to play next class.”

“Is he really telling us his plan?” Blaise asked.

“Ravenclaws would make terrible villains,” Pansy agreed.

The boy scowled at them. “We're not  _ villains _ ,” he denied, “we're taking one for the  _ rest  _ of the teams by beating your sorry arses. This time was merely a fluke because Harry Potter was on your team. Well, we'll make sure he won't be, next time.”

“Why not just ask the professor?” Vince asked, but the boy had already turned heel and was striding off towards his table.

“The hell?” Blaise murmured, watching the boy retreat. He had a rather nice arse, actually.

Draco shook his head. “Bloody Ravenclaws.”

“Should we be worried?” Pansy asked. “I don't think they would physically hurt Potter, but an illness could be a legitimate threat.”

“Who cares if Potter’s not on our team?” Blaise said.

“We’re a team,” Vince said, confused. “If Potter gets sick at the hands of  _ them _ , isn't that like losing? Like, we couldn't protect him?”

Draco sat up straight in his chair. “Are they  _ questioning _ our pack’s prowess? We can damn well protect Potter, no sweat.”

“Potter’s not going to like bodyguards.” Pansy bit her thumbnail, brows furrowed in thought.

“Are we really considering this?” Blaise asked. “Protecting  _ Potter _ ?”

“Only because we have something to prove,” Draco explained.

“Well, if it's our  _ pride  _ on the line.” Blaise rolled his eyes.

“A pride is a pack of lions,” Vince commented.

“Perfect!” Draco grinned. “We're doing this for our pride, then.”

“We're Gryffindor lions, now?” Blaise asked. “That wasn't even the kind of pride I was talking about.”

“I like pack of wolves,” Pansy said.

“Quiver of cobras?” Vince suggested.

“Flock of birds,” Greg offered. “Like, birds of prey.”

“Why don't we call ourselves a fluffle of bunnies?” Blaise suggested dryly.

“We need something cooler,” Draco explained, unruffled by his friend’s sarcasm.

“We can use them all,” Greg suggested. “Certain formations can have certain names. Like, flock formation would mean we all made a V behind Draco.”

“Why is Draco always the leader?” Blaise frowned.

“And a fluffle could be a group hug!” Pansy squealed.

“I like where this is going.” Draco smirked.

“I don't know why I hang out with any of you.” Blaise scowled.

Draco met the eyes of the other three Slytherin, then pointedly glanced at Blaise.

“Fluffle formation,” he said, and Pansy, Vince, and Greg joined the blond in a tight embrace of Zabini, who promptly began flinging curses, some merely verbal while others left stings.

“Release me!” he commanded, face darkened with a flush. “I hate you all!”

* * *

“Potter,” Draco greeted amiably.

“Malfoy and company,” Potter replied, eyebrow raised. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

They’d found Potter sitting alone in the library, and Draco had already imagined several ways to attack him without him even noticing. It appeared Potter needed them more than Draco had originally thought. 

“You’re in danger,” Vince blurted, and Pansy elbowed him.

“Fool,” she hissed, “you don't start off a conversation like that!”

“Actually, that's pretty normal for me,” Potter admitted, sending the sheepish boy a smile. “What do you mean?”

“Some Ravenclaw bloke thinks it's his,” Blaise made patronising air quotes, “‘duty’ to make sure we don't win next Phys Ed class. He also thinks we only won because of you, and may have some sort of plan concocted to make sure you can't participate next time.”

“Nothing dangerous,” Pansy assured quickly, “he seems to be under your charm like the rest of the school, but any sudden illnesses or cramping are on the table. Perhaps some tripping jinxes, as well. You never know.”

“Tripping jinxes aren't dangerous.” Potter rolled his eyes.

“Near the stairwell,” Draco supplied, not missing a beat.

“Near the lake,” Blaise said.

“Potions class” Draco smirked.

“Locker room.” Blaise shivered.

“Near my parents.” Draco grimaced.

“Near Draco’s parents,” the others chorused, faces grim.

“Um,” Potter stared, eyes wide, “wow.”

“Anyway,” Pansy waved her hand, flippantly, “you could be in danger until next class. We're here to offer our services.”

“ _ Protection  _ services,” Greg clarified.

Draco, having opened his mouth to speak, paused at Greg’s words, and turned to raise an eyebrow at him. “Did you really feel he needed that clarification?”

Greg, flushing, shrugged. “You never know.”

“Yes,” Blaise drawled, “Potter could have been expecting something  _ sexual _ , because that's just so bloody likely, right?”

“Oh, leave him alone.” Pansy huffed.

“No, no,” Draco raised a hand, “Potter, we’re here to offer you our  _ protection  _ services, because teenage pregnancy is not in the slightest a fun experience, and protection should always be adorned when copulating, even when with the same gender unless you're absolutely sure the other is clean of any sexually transmitable illnesses. That being said, our services also offer background checks, so you can have that information in writing, signed, and sent off to your lawyer before engaging in sex with your partner-”

“Draco, what the fuck?” Blaise asked, and Pansy couldn't stop laughing.

“I get it,” Greg mumbled, still bright red, “that wasn't needed.”

“No, it wasn't,” Draco agreed, “but you were thinking ahead, which I appreciate.”

Greg beamed.

Potter just stared at them, amused. “Is that very much all?” he asked.

“Pretty much.” Blaise shrugged. “Want our help until Thursday?”

“No offense,” Potter said, standing and gathering his books, “but I think I can handle myself.”

Pansy glared. “ _ This  _ bitch-”

Draco held her arm so she wouldn't slap him.

“We walked up  _ all  _ those bloody stairs,” she griped.

“Potter has every right to decline, Pans. It's his funeral,” Draco tried to calm her.

“But our pride,” Vince said.

“Like a pack of lions?” Potter raised an eyebrow.

Blaise slapped a hand to his forehead. “You people are unbelievable! There are two different kinds of pride, dammit!”

“He'll see things our way eventually,” Draco assured.

Potter frowned. “And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?”

“Ravenclaw may not be known for their cunning and dashing looks like us Slytherin,” Draco flatteringly ran a hand through his hair, “but they can get creative when need be.”

“Smartarses,” Greg muttered.

“The one who threatened us this morning had a nice arse,” Blaise commented.

“ _ Right _ !” Draco agreed. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

“It was all I noticed,” Blaise admitted sheepishly.

“I think he was blond,” Draco offered, squinting into the distance as if to aid his memory.

“He was brunette,” Pansy scoffed.

Draco widened his eyes. “No way. Brown eyes?” he tried.

Pansy gaped. “He was looking at you! Standing  _ right  _ in front of you, and you can't remember he had blue eyes?”

“I was distracted,” Draco defended.

“By what!” Pansy asked, exasperated.

“Probably ogling Potter across the room.” Blaise smirked.

“You can't see Potter’s arse from our seats,” Pansy said.

“Potter has more attractive points than just his arse,” Draco admonished.

“Um,” Potter said, eyebrows nearly at his hairline. “I'm standing right here.”

“And what a beautiful spectacle you make.” Draco fluttered his eyelashes.

“Okay, well,” Potter hiked his book bag up on his shoulder, “if you're all done teasing me-”

“Were we teasing?” Draco asked. “I was being honest.”

“I don't think he can tell when we're having him on and when we're not, yet,” Blaise said.

“Perhaps we should clarify that Draco’s very serious about ogling Potter,” Pansy suggested.

“He'll figure it out in time,” Draco said, “if we're going to be his bodyguards.”

“No,” Potter cut in, looking faintly annoyed, “you're not, and stop talking about me as if I'm not here.”

“Always have to be the center of attention, don't you, Potter?” Draco sneered.

“When you're talking about me, yes.” Potter grit his teeth.

“All nice things,” Draco assured.

Potter threw his hands in the air, frustrated to silence, apparently, as he stormed from the library without a word or backwards glance.

“To be fair,” Vince broke the silence that followed, “we can be a bit overbearing to those not used to us.”

“I can't see why,” Draco sniffed, “we're a pleasure to be around.”

Blaise snorted. “That's the truth if I've ever heard it.”

* * *

“Oh, there he is,” Blaise announced, casually jerking his head in their favorite Gryffindor’s direction.

The quintet peered in Potter’s direction, watching in interest as he appeared to be arguing with - who could have guessed? - the Ravenclaw who had threatened them earlier that morning.

“Ooh,” Pansy squealed in delight, “they don’t seem to be getting along!”

True to her word, Potter’s strong jaw was set - Draco voiced this with a swoon -, his fists were clenched, and he seemed anything other than pleased by the pleading Ravenclaw’s words.

“Is Potter turning him down?” Vince asked.

“Maybe they’ll get physical,” Draco said, leaning forward and licking at his his lower lip.

“You have issues.” Disgust twisted Blaise’s features.

“I’ve ninety-nine problems,” Draco corrected, “and Potter is every one.”

“Shite, look,” Pansy hissed.

Potter, stiffening in alarm, barely had his wand up before the Ravenclaw flung a spell at him. There was a flash of reddish light, and the Slytherin watched with baited breath, waiting to see what occurred.

Nothing, it seemed.

Potter stood, blinking, in exactly the same spot as before. He didn’t appear any different, so the spell had either failed, or didn’t have any immediate effects.

“I think we’ve watched from the sidelines for long enough, yeah?” Draco smirked.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Pansy replied, and Blaise grumbled something - pleasant, Draco guessed optimistically - beneath his breath.

“Flock formation,” Draco commanded, and without another word, the group followed behind him as they approached the two students at the edge of the Quidditch Pitch.

Momentarily distracted by their approach, Potter murmured a baffled, “Malfoy?”

“Potter.” The blond nodded curtly before continuing his stride until he stood before Potter, the rest of the Slytherin surrounding the Gryffindor so he stood in the center of their unenclosed triangle.

“What’s going on?” the Ravenclaw sneered. 

“What spell did you just cast?” Draco drawled dispassionately.

The Ravenclaw smirked. “Nothing harmful,” he assured, voice sugary sweet, “but I wouldn’t count on Harry Potter being able to participate in the next-”

“Phys Ed game, we get it,” Pansy scoffed.

Looking ruffled at being cut off, the Ravenclaw quickly spat, “Not that you filthy Slytherin would care. What are you all doing out here, anyway? Is lurking around empty fields a new pastime of yours?”

Draco frowned, confused. “What on earth? Orgies are a pastime, not Quidditch-Pitch lurking. What is it you Ravenclaw do on your spare time, I wonder?”

The boy, sputtering indignantly, flushed bright red.

“And we’re out here for Potter,” Draco finished proudly, placing his fists on his hips and puffing out his chest.

Blaise snorted and Pansy, bless her soul, elbowed him in the side.

“We’re his bodyguards until you Ravenclaw buff up and decide to face us, head on, like true warriors,” Draco justified, voice smooth and deep and provocative.

It had the intended effect.

“Shut up!” the boy yelled. “We could easily beat you pathetic Slytherin!”

“He called us pathetic instead of filthy, this time,” Blaise commented disinterestedly.

“Does he even know our names?” Pansy asked, mildly insulted. 

“Names are important,” Draco agreed.

“Proud as I may be for being Slytherin,” Pansy continued, “being lumped together with Blaise so often can’t be good for a girl’s reputation.”

“And being lumped with Draco is fine?” Blaise scoffed.

“They probably spend the same amount of time on their hair,” Potter said, grin splitting his features as the blond in question visibly bristled, Pansy sniggered, and Blaise smirked.

“No offence, Potter,” Vince piped up, “but Draco’s hair looks prettier than yours.”

Draco preened, and Potter laughed.

“I think I’ll live,” the Gryffindor replied goodnaturedly.

“Vince, if I die young, you’re promoted to new leader in my stead,” Draco announced.

“What!” Blaise squawked.

“Flattery can get you far, Zabini.” Draco flipped his hair dramatically, and offhandedly noticed it had grown rather long. Though the forelocks wouldn’t reach, he could probably tie the hair from the back in an elastic, if he truly tried.

“ _ Hello _ !” the ravenclaw shouted to snag their attention, flailing his arms wildly. “I was challenging you!”

“And then we said you mustn't know our names,” Pansy reminded. “Do keep up, darling.”

“You don’t know mine!” The boy hollered.

“Aiden?” Draco guessed.

“Michael,” Pansy said.

“Elwood?” Blaise tried.

“Basil?” suggested Greg.

“Basil?” Pansy echoed, voice dubious.

“Keith,” Vince supposed.

“Travis.” Potter joined the game.

“My name’s Aaron Blueglass!” the boy cried. “You’re all wrong!”

“What does this have to do with you challenging us?” Pansy asked, and ‘Aaron’ slapped a hand to his face frustratedly.

“I- You- Nevermind!” he seethed, fists clenching. “We  _ will  _ defeat you Thursday, with or without Potter on your bloody team.”

And with that, the brunette - ah, Pansy had been right about his hair color - turned on his heel and stomped from the Quidditch Pitch back to the castle.

When he was out of sight, Draco turned to face Potter, as did the rest of the Slytherin.

Potter raised an eyebrow. “How do I always end up behind you?”

“Because the attractive ones are always in front,” Draco explained simply.

“Ah,” Potter nodded, “and why am I being surrounded, again, in the first place?”

“You obviously need our protection, Potter.” Pansy rolled her eyes. “We take our eyes off you for two hours, and when he return, you’re taking spells from harmless Ravenclaws.”

“Two hours?” Potter asked, expression disturbed. “And yes, he did look quite harmless, which is why I didn’t expect him to throw a spell at me!”

“An unknown spell,” Blaise added, “as I doubt you even paid enough mind to catch the wand motions or incantation.”

A sheepish grin appeared on Potter’s face. “Sorry?”

Draco sighed and massaged his temples. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Potter.”

“I’m- what?”

“Everyone,” Draco continued, “mission Protect Potter is underway. Any accidents will not be tolerated. Guard him with your lives, soldiers, and we may just live to see the end of this war.”

All but one of the remaining Slytherin clicked their heels together and saluted with a prompt, “Sir, yes sir!”

Pansy, bless her soul, elbowed Blaise into grumbling his agreement.

“Um,” Potter tried again, only to be cut off once more.

“Swarm formation!” Draco declared. “The war is tomorrow, but the battle starts today. Don’t let your guard down! Potter doesn’t leave our sight for a  _ second. _ ”

“Do I have any say whatsoever in your decisions  _ regarding me _ ?” Potter hissed through his teeth.

“Just let me take care of you for a while.” Draco flashed a charming grin.

Potter found himself nodding.

* * *

“Tomorrow’s Thursday,” Blaise announced. “Draco, Cyclops?”

“Draw a card.” Draco smirked as Blaise, glaring, drew a card from the Exploding Snap pile.

“Am I spending the night here?” Potter asked. “Pansy, Common Welsh Green?”

“Always with the dragons, Potter,” Pansy drawled, but begrudgingly gave him the card. She was rewarded with a wink.

“You can either stay in the Slytherin dorms,” Vince said, “or I suppose you could stay with Draco in his prefect room. We already treated the spell Aaron shot at you, so you've nothing to worry about until tomorrow.”

“I’ve only one bed, but that shouldn’t stop you.” Draco fluttered his eyelashes.

“Malfoy,” Potter said.

“Yes?” Draco asked hopefully.

“Mountain Troll?”

Draco, deflating slightly, handed him the card. “I’m sad to say, my dear Harry, but you seem to have quite the gift for this game, as someone who’s supposedly never played before.” Draco slanted him a suspicious glance.

Pansy laughed, but stopped when she noticed Potter’s expression.

“You called me Harry,” Potter said.

“‘My dear Potter’ doesn’t sound nearly as endearing as ‘my dear Harry’.” Draco shrugged. “Harry’s a breathier word, sort of rolls off the tongue. Potter’s sharper, even a little harsh if said with the right amount of venom.”

“Draco’s obviously given this quite a bit of thought,” Blaise snorted.

“Names are important,” Draco said, and for a time, his face was dreadfully serious. “The first thing you’re given is a name - the _ very first thing _ . When you’ve nothing else, you have a name. Different people call you different ones - My mother calls me Dragon, my father calls me Son. My friends, Draco, everyone else, Malfoy. Each name carries its own significance, because each name represent something different. I act differently around those who consider me Malfoy, compared to those who consider me Draco. Potter gets it,” Draco assured. “To his friends, he’s Harry. To everyone else, he’s Harry Potter. To the hot ones, he’s just Potter.”

“And if the hot ones are his friends?” Potter asked, looking at his card deck disinterestedly.

“They should perhaps call him Harry.” Draco examined his nails neutrally.

“Draco,” Potter said.

“Yes?”

“Bowtruckle?”

Draco smiled. “Draw a card, Harry.”

* * *

“How are we going to drench the other teams?” Vince asked, nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Yellow and Blue were already taken out,” Harry said, “so that leaves us in charge of eliminating Pink.”

“So what’s the plan, captain?” Blaise asked, voice a tad sarcastic.

Harry, with a smirk, turned towards Draco. “Well?”

Draco blinked. “Well, what?”

“You’re the leader, aren’t you?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows. “Take control of your team.”

Draco’s heart beat faster, and he heard faint static in his ears, because Harry was acknowledging him as the leader and that was not only empowering, but also fucking hot.

“Alright,” he conceded, and added a casual, “but I expect you to take control sometimes. I hear you’re good at taking charge.”

Harry’s eyes darkened.

“We don’t have time for flirting!” Pansy warned. “Pink team approaches!”

“What’s the plan?” Blaise repeated seriously. “I don’t usually get into these things, but they have it coming.”

“There are some other Houses on that team,” Greg mentioned.

“But their captain is our favorite little Ravenclaw,” Pansy sang, voice sweet. “We have a point to prove, boys, which means we have to do better than a dragon this time.”

“How about a phoenix?” Harry suggested. 

“Phoenix, phoenix,” Vince chanted.

“Do it,” Greg agreed.

“Phoenixes aren’t cooler than dragons,” Draco grumbled, but begrudging began forming their green paint into that shape.

“Equally as cool,” Harry said, coming up behind Draco.

“What are you doing?”

“Covering you,” Harry answered cheekily.

“Shit, they’re copying us,” Pansy hissed.

“What are they making?” Vince asked. “I can’t see from back here!”

“When did we fall into Pack formation again?” Blaise asked, voice a mix of confusion and disgust.

“It looks like a pig?” Draco asked more than answered.

“IT’S A HORSE, YOU TOSSERS!” Aaron hollered at them as they drew within striking distance.

“He doesn’t have much artistic ability, does he,” Draco mused, grimacing sympathetically.

“That's why Draco’s the leader,” Vince said proudly.

“Vince,” Draco announced. “If I die young, you’re promoted to new leader in my stead.”

“Again!” Blaise cried. “That’s not fair!”

“‘Flattery can get you far, Zabini’,” Harry quoted sagely.

“I hate you all,” Blaise growled, and Pansy, bless her soul, elbowed him.

“We can’t talk like that,” Pansy reprimanded, “especially when we’re  _ totally about to pop their tops off!  _ Our Phoenix is  _ way  _ bigger than their pig-”

“HORSE!” Aaron shouted.

“We can defeat them if we strike now-”

“Strike now?” Draco asked.

“Go!” Blaise agreed.

“SINK YOUR TEETH IN THEIR NECK!” came Draco’s war cry.

“DRAW BLOOD!” the others chorused perfectly.

“SINK YOUR TEETH IN THEIR NECK!” he screamed again.

“DRAW BLOOD!”

“Shite!” Aaron could be heard. “It’s coming- fling the horse-”

But it was too late. The green bird far surpassed the pink abomination in both size and power. Pink Team went out with a bang, accompanied on acoustic by the phoenix’s squawk of terror.

Silence reigned over the field until pops of apparition could be heard, and that was when Green Team knew they’d won.

Pansy threw her fist in the air. “GREEN TEAM DOMINATES!” she screamed, and the rest of the team roared in response.

Silence reigned again.

“Why isn’t the arena disappearing?” Greg asked.

“I’ll bet anyone five galleons that Aaron bloke is spitting fire at the professor.” Blaise smirked.

“So how’s it feel being part of the team, Harry?” Pansy nudged him, smirk sly. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you rallying with us.”

“It’s nice,” Potter admitted, looking oddly shy. “You guys are, well, friends now, so it meant a lot more being part of the team.”

“We wouldn’t have outmatched them so quickly if it weren’t for you, Harry.” Draco smiled. “Your magic made twice as much paint as any of us could have-”

“But you made the phoenix,” Harry argued.

“But you protected me from their attacks while I molded it-”

“I couldn’t have molded anything in the first place-”

“We get it!” Blaise yelled. “You’re both brilliant! Now shut up and snog already!”

Pansy didn’t elbow him, eyeing the two embarrassed boys expectantly.

“Well?” she prompted.

They were saved as the arena began dissipating, and then Green Team found themselves in the familiar Hogwarts field.

Their physical education professor, while carefully avoiding a seething Aaron, congratulated Green Team, awarded them House Points, and dismissed the class.

Surprisingly, Vince started up conversation with a glaring Aaron, and as they walked, they learned his genuine laugh was just as nice as his arse.

Draco and Harry walked, side by side, a few steps behind the group.

“You know,” Harry said, “random people are always throwing curses at me.”

Draco raised an eyebrow.

“I could use protection,” he said.

Draco grinned and held out his hand, which Harry took and squeezed.

“And I'll cover you, should anyone dare,” Harry assured.

“Of course,” Draco laughed. “Not that anyone would dare mess with me.”

“I don't know,” Harry hiked up on shoulder, “I hear there’s this one Gryffindor who’s used to getting his way. He's a hopeless celebrity, you see, and isn't used to taking no for an answer.”

“And what exactly does this celebrity want from me?” Draco asked.

Potter glanced at him, and his smile was embarrassingly cheeky.

“If you say something cliche like, ‘his heart,’ I will personally see to it this Gryffindor never speaks again,” Draco commented calmly.

“Never,” Hadry agreed, face comically grave. “More like, ‘a chance,’ or, ‘his time.’ But, if he did consider it, how would you keep his mouth preoccupied?” Harry asked, raising his eyebrows innocently.

Draco leaned up and kissed him.

**The end.**


End file.
